


when was the last time you did something for the first time?

by Gracerevealed



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Brief Mention of Suicide, First Kiss, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Season 2, these boys will be the death of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 05:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracerevealed/pseuds/Gracerevealed
Summary: He wondered what Justin was thinking right then. If any part of him felt as Clay did. Like something had been ripped open and exposed, revealing a type of yearning for something he never knew he wanted.Set directly after that scene in episode 12 where Justin talks Clay out of shooting Bryce.





	when was the last time you did something for the first time?

It had started the night he'd confronted Bryce with a gun.

The boys had driven in silence, Justin's jaw clenching and unclenching every so often. Clay hadn't realized he'd drifted asleep until the car stopped. He rubbed his eyes, feeling disoriented, unsure of where he’d been taken.

“Where are we?”

“Get out.” Justin ordered. Clay was taken aback by his tone.

“ _What_? Justin-”

“I said get the fuck out!”

Confused, Clay unbuckled his seat belt and fumbled for the handle, sliding onto unsteady feet.

The other door slammed, rattling the hinges of the small car.

“Justin, what are you –” he started as the other boy stalked towards him, pupils blown wide with anger.

“Shut up.”

Clay immediately closed his mouth, swallowing the rest of his words. He held up his hands, still emotionally exhausted from the events at Bryce’s house and unwilling to engage in whatever confrontation Justin was seeking.

“Look, I know what I did –”

“Who gave you that gun?”

Oh.

Silence fell between them as an image of Tyler flashed through his mind. He hadn't even thought about all the shit he would’ve gotten the tall, lanky boy into if he'd actually gone through with his plan. If Justin hadn't stopped him.

Clay looked down, suddenly feeling worse.

“A friend,” he replied quietly.

“Jensen, look at me,” Justin said. But Clay kept his eyes stubbornly averted. “Look at me,” he repeated, stepping into Clay’s space. He was so close that Clay could feel the other boy’s quick, angry breaths fanning the flushed skin of his face.

“Whoever gave you that, isn't your fucking friend, do you hear me?”

“Drop it Justin,” Clay replied in a tight voice, making to move around the taller boy. But Justin was choosing now, of all times, to stand his fucking ground.

“I will if you tell me who gave you the fucking gun.”

Clay sagged against the car, trying to get some space between them, and shook his head. Hannah was standing in the corner of the look-out point, staring at him with those sad, bright eyes, and it was all he could do not to just yell at her to go away. Justin in his face was like, literally the last freakin' thing he needed.

He propped the back of his head against the side of the car and closed his eyes.

“You think if I ask you to leave me alone that you can actually just do it?”

“ _Jensen_ ,” Justin said in what he supposed was a warning tone.

Clay opened one eye and ran a hand through his hair, sighing. Because even though he felt his own considerable anger simmering just beneath the surface, it was waylaid by how fucking tired he felt. He didn't have the energy to get into another fight.

Pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes he finally said, “Tyler, ok? Tyler. Now just... Leave it alone.”

Clay eyed Justin warily as he started pacing to and fro in front of him.

“That little shit.” He stopped suddenly in his tracks and banged the side of the back door for emphasis. “That weird piece of absolute shit.”

“Justin,” Clay said in a tired voice gripping the other boy’s shoulder. “Calm down.”

Justin brushed off his hand.

“Don't fucking tell me to calm down,” he said. His voice was raspy, eyes narrowed.

Silence fell between them and then:

“And what the fuck were you doing putting that thing to your head anyway?” Justin asked as if suddenly remembering that small (major) detail.

Clay flinched and turned his gaze on Hannah. She said nothing, but he felt the weight of her eyes on him nonetheless. She watched him even after he’d returned his attention to Justin. And would continue staring at him long after he eventually closed his eyes to go to sleep. She mostly appeared when he wasn't doing anything at all.

He clenched his teeth, struggling and failing to contain the tears that gathered at the corners of his eyes.

He was losing it. This was what would be the end of him. Not a freak car accident, or putting a bullet through his skull, but this. This right here.

“I can't,” he said quietly. He felt like he was suffocating. “I can’t do this.”

Clay was both hot and cold suddenly, the pressure building in his chest becoming impossibly tighter. Heavier. Suddenly breathless, his feet gave a tiny wobble and before he knew it, he was sinking to the ground, head bowed and argument forgotten.

“Jensen.”

Clay didn’t reply - didn’t have the wherewithal to even raise his head.

“Jensen, breathe,” he knew the voice was right above him but it sounded distant too, like it was coming from the far end of a tunnel. Then he felt a hand on the back of his neck, and it squeezed, bringing him into the moment again. He looked up and saw that Justin was propped on one knee, leaning over him.

“Justin?” The word was a question and the other boy, with his arm already wound around Clay’s neck, placed another hand on his elbow and squeezed.

“It’s okay,” his voice had none of the edge from earlier. “I’m here,” Justin said, fingers resting on his nape.

Clay nodded and looked down, closing his eyes against the first slip of tears that trickled down his face against his will.

The fucking impossible thing about crying was, the harder you tried to stop, the easier it was for it to just - slip out. Like the way gripping sand too tight made it easier for the sand to escape. Especially when there was someone being gentle with you, rubbing your neck, and quietly telling you it was going to be okay.

He was struck again by how unfair it all was. People like Bryce and Montgomery were happily enjoying their lives while Hannah was in her grave, gone forever.

It was while he was thinking that, that the other boy, who had taken an opposite seat, leaned over and kissed him. It was chaste and barely there, but Clay felt it and his eyes - which had slipped shut - flew open.

The kiss shocked him out of his morbid thoughts, out of crying altogether, and he stared at Justin, a residual tear trickling down his cheek.

“What,” he started, but his voice cracked and he stopped to clear the press of emotion that clogged his throat. “What are you doing?”

Justin’s eyes were wide and surprised, as if he’d confused himself too. Quickly, he removed the hands that were still on Clay’s elbow and neck, and shrugged, looking off to the side.

“I don’t ... I don’t really know man, I just...” Justin’s words trailed off and he stared pointedly at a spot over his shoulder.

Clay’s head was spinning.

“Why did you... are you ... gay?” He asked the question haltingly.

 _“What_?!” The other boy pulled away quickly, settling into his own space and looked at him with downturned lips. “No - no man I’m not… gay, ok? I’m just –” but Justin didn’t finish his sentence, and once again, silence fell between them.

 _Am_ I _gay_? Clay wondered, because a part of him had actually liked the feeling of the other boy’s mouth on his. Or maybe, he liked the memory of the sensation - it was too quick to really be sure if it was any good. He knew had it been any other time, like when he wasn’t so emotionally exhausted or just plain fucked up, or if Justin hadn’t literally just saved his life (even thinking about how he almost pulled the trigger made his hands shake), or if he were sitting here with  _any_  other guy ... Clay would have dismissed the notion entirely. But he was tired of overthinking things. He was tired period, and that kiss had felt like the beginning of something worth exploring.

So without much warning, he wiped at his face and pushed himself hard towards Justin, mashing their lips together. Or at least he attempted to. But he’d wrongly judged the distance, and their noses bumped against each other awkwardly. The older boy smoothly corrected the mistake though, and put a steadying hand behind Clay’s head.

The first actual meeting of lips was feather light, with both boys keeping their eyes ever so slightly open. By the third or fourth pass, Justin had snuck his tongue inside Clay’s mouth and was grasping the curve of his neck more insistently, his long lashes fanning prettily against his cheekbones. Clay didn’t know why he was thinking about the other boy’s eyelashes, or why they were pretty to him all of a sudden, but the sight of Justin like this, their breaths huffing into each other’s mouths while the older boy wound his fingers into his nape, caused something in his stomach to flutter.

Clay’s hands had been awkwardly cradled in his lap, but without meaning to, they wandered and found a home at the dip of the other boy’s waist. The awareness only came once he realized he was clutching the fabric of his friend’s shirt.

Justin pulled a little at the hair lying between his fingers and Clay shivered, angling his mouth a bit more - making the kiss deeper.

Justin ran his hand further down his neck and made a noise that sounded like a low groan. The sound shot straight to Clay’s dick, and suddenly he felt overwhelmed with how quickly everything was moving and was struck by the overall strangeness of the night itself. It might’ve only been an hour ago since he’d had a gun pointed at Bryce’s chest, and now he was sitting by the bluff, making out with Justin fucking Foley. Could he have imagined that this would be his life a year ago? A month ago?

Clay pulled away, breathing hard, trying but failing to suppress the surge of want that caused his stomach to dip at the way the other boy - eyes closed - chased his retreating mouth.

 _God, what the fuck_ was _this_?

His eyes jumped from Justin’s lips to the exposed skin above his shirt - showing just a hint of his tattoo - and back to his lips again. He’d kissed a handful of girls before, been in a serious relationship exactly once, and had even come close to having sex with Skye. While all of it had been good and exciting in their own way, none of those encounters had ever left him feeling like this. This … _need_ for more.

Clay’s hands were still clutching tightly at the fabric of Justin’s shirt and at the dip of his waist, and he squeezed the skin underneath his fingers reflexively. The older boy seemed to take that as a queue to start up from where they’d left off, and leaned in again.

“We shouldn’t,” Clay whispered, just as Justin’s mouth ghosted over his own. The words made both of them slowly pull back and stare at the other, the weight of what they’d done hanging heavily in the air between them.

Neither one followed up with a ‘this is weird,’ or ‘what the fuck’, or anything along those lines. Instead they just kept staring and staring at each other - both left with only the echo of what Clay had last said.

_We shouldn’t._

He wondered what Justin was thinking right then. If any part of him felt as Clay did. Like something had been ripped open and exposed, revealing a type of yearning for something he never knew he wanted.

Justin pulled back, hands tracing a lingering path down Clay’s back as they fell off and away from him. Clay couldn’t stop the tiny shudder that ran through him at the sensation.

“You’ve got Jess,” he began after a few beats of silence. “And I’m –” he turned his head, searching for Hannah. She wasn’t there, which might’ve been a relief, and then he sighed, settling his gaze on the other boy across from him. “I’m  _clearly_  fucked up.

That caused Justin’s lips to half curl, settling into the semblance of a smile. His eyes still had that lingering sadness that seemed to never go away, but something about him seemed lighter too, like kissing Clay had lifted some kind of weight he had been carrying around. Somehow, it only served to enhance how... beautiful he looked.

Clay frowned, mentally scolding himself, wondering if he’d had no other adjective in his rather large vocabulary with which to describe Justin’s appearance.

Beautiful? Was that even something you could call another guy?

God, he was fucked. And not in a good way.

“Do you  _really_  wanna get into a who’s more fucked up competition right now Jensen? Because I still think I win, hands down.”

Justin drew his leg up and rested his arm casually against it, wrist flicking up and then down, mimicking a shrug. He had angled himself slightly so he could lean the back of his head against the car door as he talked to Clay.

It was weird, but Justin’s words coupled with his nonchalant tone managed to ease most of the tension in Clays stomach away, until he was left feeling like all of his anxieties had ambled completely out of his system. Now his head just felt impossibly heavy and his eyes droopy. It had been a long, fucked up night.

Perhaps sensing his shift in energy, Justin got to his feet and bent over to grab at him, helping him stand.

“Come on,” Justin murmured, grasping at his shirt and hands. And if the other boy’s touch seemed a little too familiar, Clay didn’t mind. As a matter of fact, he rather enjoyed being manhandled a bit. It felt like someone was taking care of him for once instead of it being the other way around. Justin even opened the door for him and strapped in his seatbelt once he was on the driver’s side. Clay had a brief but strangely satisfying moment of the other boy crowding him in his seat as he fished around for the life saving device.

Not having much energy left, he closed his eyes and fell asleep before Justin had even pulled out of the turf that led to the bluff. He didn’t open them again until he felt hands shaking him awake.

Groggily, he opened his eyes and saw that his seatbelt was off and his door was already open.

“I draw the line at carrying your ass inside Jensen,” Justin said with a stern look on his face.

The block was quiet.

Clay craned his neck to look at the time on the car deck and nearly choked. It was almost one am - well past his curfew. Feeling suddenly awake, he grabbed his phone out of his front pocket and checked for missed calls or texts. The screen remained stubbornly dark when he put his thumb on the home button.

“Great,” he said out loud.

“I already texted your mom and dad. Told them we were both having a bad night and went to visit Hannah.”

“You –”

“Yea.” Justin grabbed at his wrist and Clay allowed himself to be pulled up. “So let’s hurry up and get inside.”

They slowly made their way to the front door, Clay grimacing in anticipation of his parents’ reaction.

Before he could pull out his keys however, the door opened and his dad stepped across the threshold looking worried.

“Are you two okay?”

“Yes Mr. Jensen,” Justin said, walking in front of him. “Just a little sad but ... okay. Right Clay?” His dad’s eyes shifted from the other boy to him, clearly waiting for an answer.

“We -  _I_  had a moment.” Clay didn’t want to lie, but he definitely wasn’t willing to tell his dad the whole truth. Something firmly in the middle would probably be the best for all of them.

“I was gonna do something reckless –”

 _“Clay_ ,” his father cut in, already gearing up to offer words of warning.

“But.” He said. “ _But_... Justin talked me out of it. Helped me to do the right thing.” He looked at Justin then, remembering again everything that had happened and how the other boy had literally saved his life. Well. He had literally saved Bryce’s life, but Clay’s life was still capable of a future as a result of Justin’s action’s. He didn’t think a mere thank you was adequate enough to express the gratitude he felt. He didn’t know if he could ever repay the debt.

Something in the other boy’s eyes made him think that he understood what Clay was thinking because he smiled, almost reluctantly, and bowed his head.

“Justin was really amazing,” he turned to look at his dad. “My phone died and I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” Clay held the offending object, with its dark screen, as proof.

His dad had a slightly skeptical look, but mostly he seemed relieved.

“I’m just glad that you’re okay,” he said, placing a hand on Clays back. “That you both are.” And with that, he ushered them inside.

A little dazed that he wasn’t being subjected to a lecture, he asked belatedly as they stepped into the foyer:

“Hey where’s mom?”

His dad looked from him to Justin and said quietly as he closed the door, “Your mother,” he said, looking away briefly then, tugging at his shirt in a very un-dad like gesture. “Is staying with her sister for a little while.”

What the fuck? Clay stared at his father, nonplussed.

“What the fuck?” Justin said looking as surprised as he felt. “Hey, Mr. J... if it’s me, I’ll go.”

Both Clay and his dad let out a cry of no, startling the other boy with how loud and forceful their tones were. Clay even went so far as to push out a restraining arm in an attempt to block Justin’s path just in case he got any ideas about leaving.

“Of  _course_  it’s not you,” his dad said eyeing the other boy wearily. “We just,” he looked at Clay. “After last night, she just needed to cool down a bit.” He remembered the fight they’d all had from the night before and swore.

“Shit, dad was it because of what I said? Because –”

“For the last time,” his dad interrupted, voice just one inflection shy of full exasperation. “This has nothing to do with either of you.”

Clay’s head was spinning again. He had no idea what any of it meant. In all of their years living at this house, he couldn’t recall a time when his mother had decided she wasn’t staying the night.

God this trial wouldn’t stop at tearing their school apart or their lives... it would tear apart his parents’ marriage as well.

“That fucking sucks,” Justin said in that blunt way of his and Clay could’ve punched him for it. Normally he found how direct he was refreshing, but now he just felt bad for his dad and didn’t want the other boy adding to it.

“Thanks for stating the obvious,” he said snidely.

“Clay it’s ok. And he’s right. It does - fucking suck,” he swore like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do it in Clay’s presence. Given the circumstances though, neither one of them seemed to mind. “But we’re gonna be alright.”

Clay sighed. This time it was his turn to put a reassuring hand out and onto his father’s shoulder.

“Let us know if you need anything,” he said and squeezed, hoping that the single action was enough to relay all of his support and love.

His dad nodded and offered up a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You boys should get some sleep.” Then he began to usher them up the stairs.

Clay offered up a goodnight mixed with a yawn as he closed the door with him and Justin inside.

He sat on the bed and slowly began to strip down, the news of his mother leaving already being pushed to the back of his mind as he remembered all of the night’s events. Clay found it strange how unselfconscious he’d been before anything had happened between him and Justin, how easy it had been changing and dressing in front of him. Now he found himself grateful that the other boy had turned around when Clay began removing his jeans, and tried not to stare while Justin took off his shirt.

Justin had been rail thin when he and Tony had found him just a few weeks ago, but staying with his family had helped him put on some weight, the sharp cuts and muscles he imagined him having before his addiction, seemingly returned.

Clearing his throat, Clay turned away, reminding himself he was supposed to be too tired to think, or ogle anyone, or do much of anything.

Clay remained sitting on the edge of the bed, clad only his boxers and a T-shirt, suddenly wishing he could be different, that he didn’t always have to talk things out even as he reluctantly turned towards Justin who was standing by Clay’s desk, similarly undressed and thumbing through one of his comics.

“So...” he began, dragging out the word and digging nervous fingers into his sheets.

A beat of silence.

“So,” Justin answered, not taking his eyes off of the comic he held.

He could think of a million things to follow up with, but what came out was,

“Are we... okay?”

Justin glanced at him, rolled his eyes, and looked away - continuing to scan through the graphic novel. 

“Yea, we’re fine,” he answered with a small smile.

Clay swallowed his relief.

He should just leave it there he told himself. If they were okay, there was no reason to-

“And what happened earlier...”  _Shut up, shut up, shut up. “_ Was that... okay too?”

Justin’s body stiffened and his fingers stilled. He stared at nothing for a while, seemingly struggling with something, but after a moment, he put the comic down and faced him. The intensity radiating from his eyes caused Clay to swallow again, but this time with uncertainty.

Justin took a few steps toward him, stopping just short of their knees brushing against each other’s, and said quietly, “More than okay Jensen.”

Something about his words coupled with the way he was looking at him, caused that unfamiliar but insistent need to surface inside of him again, and his stomach clenched in response.

Clay didn’t know how to ask to kiss someone or ask to be kissed by them, but something on his face must’ve told Justin what he wanted, because he cupped the back of Clay’s neck and flicked his thumb under his chin, tilting his head up.

“You want this?” he asked softly, and Clay knew he was talking about more than just the kiss, but he didn’t hesitate when he nodded - his eyes already focused on Justin’s mouth. Had he ever wanted anything more, he wondered silently. Then the other boy was leaning over him and pressing their lips together.

That initial meeting of skin felt amazing, but all Clay could think about was how it wasn’t enough, so he pulled Justin’s head down, their foreheads briefly brushing against each other’s, and slid his tongue inside. The sudden shift in position caused Justin to kilter slightly, and Clay grabbed at his waist to correct the imbalance.

The skin underneath his fingers felt hot and hard (so unlike any other kissing partner he’d ever had). He gave a slight squeeze, liking the planes and dips that ran underneath his hands. Justin groaned quietly and Clay felt himself get hard in response, though this time, he welcomed the sensation. The whole thing was no less surreal than before, but it felt too good to not keep going.

Justin pulled back slightly, but only so he could lick hotly into Clay’s mouth, then suck his bottom lip before giving it a quick bite. Clay put another hand on Justin’s waist, practically forcing him into his lap, and both boys let out appreciative moans at the feeling of their dicks rubbing against the other.

He’d been in a similar position before with Skye (minus the dicks part), so he knew if he slid back once, twice, then leaned into the mattress... Justin followed his movements, propping himself up by the forearms and pressing a knee in between Clay’s legs as he lay over him. The jolt of sensation that small action provoked made something that sounded like a whimper involuntarily escape his mouth.  _God_ , he sounded like a girl he thought, even as he wound one arm behind Justin’s neck, while the other settled on his back.

Justin took the opportunity of Clay freeing his mouth to move his lips south, down the side of his neck, where he proceeded to lick, and suck, and torment Clay into a writhing ball of  _want_.

Clay moaned the other boy’s name (he had never moaned  _anyone’s_  name before), and Justin brought his head up, licking into Clay’s mouth again before pulling back to ask, “Can I touch you.” Justin kissed him again then brought his mouth next to the shell of his ear and whispered, “ _Please_.” It was a small word, but the effect of hearing it said in that way by  _this_  boy, almost ruined him.

He grabbed a fistful of Justin’s hair and nodded. It took him a moment to realize Justin couldn’t see him agree, so he let out a “yea” that ended on a moan as a wet tongue wound around his earlobe.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, unable to stifle the sound as Justin’s hand snuck in between their bodies and wrapped around him for the first time.

“That feel good?” The other boy whispered, pulling back to stare at him while he stroked. Clay didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded, only capable of staring back.

Justin rose up on his forearm and looked down at what he was doing, biting his lip as a bead of sweat fell from his forehead and landed on Clay’s clothed chest. He stopped for a moment, telling Clay to raise up, and he did, lifting his hips while Justin did his best to shimmy his boxers down with one hand. Justin pulled his own down as best he could in his haste, then cursed softly when he fisted both of their dicks together and squeezed.

Clay’s tip was already leaking, which only helped increase the delicious friction they created while moving against one another. As their movements intensified, white, hot pressure began building within him. He tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut in response, trying to push the sensation down, hoping to make the moment last as long as possible.

They gasped and moaned into each other’s mouths while Justin’s hand kept pumping mercilessly away at the both of them. After an interminable amount of time passed, he felt Justin - taut as a bow - press his face into the side of Clay’s exposed neck and stifle a loud groan, biting skin as he came. The sharp pleasure-pain of his teeth provoked Clay’s own orgasm, which spurted out in thick, sticky streams between them.

After, they lay side by side, trembling and breathing heavily in the wake of their shared release.

Some time had passed, then Justin said, “That was fucking intense as shit.”

Clay snorted at that and raised the crook of his elbow to cover his eyes, still trying to catch his breath. It wasn’t exactly eloquent, but it summed up what had happened between them perfectly.

“I’m too tired to move,” Clay replied, trying to figure out why he didn’t feel more weirded out about what they’d just done. He’d never thought of another boy in this way before, much less him and that boy practically having sex.

There was shuffling and he lifted his arm slightly to see Justin pull up his boxers, then use an errant T-shirt to wipe away the mess on his and Clay’s stomachs (though there wasn’t much that could be done to save his rumpled undershirt). After, Justin reached for Clay’s boxers and Clay lifted his hips again, allowing the other boy to make him decent. He closed his eyes, opening them a crack when he felt Justin’s weight settle next to him.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, right?” he mumbled, barely able to stay awake. He was still lying on his back as Justin reached over him and switched off the lamp.

“It’s you Jensen,” Justin replied, turning on his side and slinging a hand over Clay’s stomach. If it wasn’t for that gesture, the two boys would barely be touching. “Of course we’ll talk tomorrow.”

The corner of Clay’s mouth lifted and he ran a tired hand through Justin’s hair and down his neck in response, thinking the whole thing - whatever this was between them - felt surprisingly easy and natural.

“Go to sleep,” he said, moving his arm to rest heavily across Justin’s shoulders.

And so preceded the start of what would become the defining relationship of Clay’s life.

 

-The End

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously inspired by allofspace's masterful, 'All you did was save my life' Justin x Clay fanfic (seriously, if you haven't read it, do so NOW!). She was also kind enough to take some time out of her busy schedule to beta my story - thanks again! Any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> I was thinking about writing a follow up one shot, but I'll see how this is received first.
> 
> Justin x Clay plot ideas are welcomed!


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